The general frowned, his whiskers jutting out like flags. “What brought you home? You only recently inherited your title.”
“I was recalled. I was seconded to the Secretary at War and based out of the War Office. Though I have since resigned that post.” He inclined his head. “Other duties have been pressed upon me lately.” It was the cover story he had maintained since leaving the army.
“Ah, I see. Perfectly sensible.” The general turned to Charlotte. “So many young men of the aristocracy buy commissions hoping to cover themselves in glory, and after their first taste of battle, finding out that war is not the glamorous adventure they had supposed, attempt to resign their commissions and run for the comforts of home. I’m glad to see His Grace was not among their number.”
“As am I.” Charlotte raised her brows, the picture of innocence, as if she didn’t realize the general had been testing Marcus to see what caliber of man he was. Or that the general had been quite willing to upbraid him if he had answered the question differently.
She was a lively one. Quick as a vixen. Without her here tonight, the evening would’ve been a dead bore.
They steadily advanced, winning match after match, until they reached the top table. The Duchess of Haverly and the Earl of Tiptree had also advanced.
“Congratulations, Mother.” Marcus kept the surprise out of his voice. His parent wasn’t known for her adeptness at whist … or was she? He’d never played with her before. Never seen her play. Had the earl carried her thus far?
He felt a twinge of guilt. For years he had known his mother had little affection or interest to spare on him, but he now realized that cut both ways. While he was a dutiful son, he knew almost nothing of his mother’s preferences, hobbies, or abilities. In many ways, she was a stranger. Perhaps he had learned his skill at compartmentalizing his life from his mother. She had put him neatly into the “second-born spare” box of her life, relegating him to a lesser place in her estimation, and he’d done the same to her, elevating his Crown work above all else.
The other guests now knocked out of the tournament gathered around the top table, encouraged by Mrs. Washburn. Several of the gentlemen made friendly wagers on the outcome.
The Earl of Tiptree had a certain shrewdness about him that put Marcus on alert, as did the way Charlotte shrank into herself a bit as she took her seat. Her eyes grew tight at the outer corners, and she shuffled her hand of cards over and over, as if unable to find an order that suited her.
Marcus needn’t have worried that his mother’s success was due solely to the earl’s prowess at whist. She was quite skilled.
It was a hard-fought battle, with the final hand determining the winner.
Charlotte displayed none of her previous joy as she slid the winning trick from the center of the table and butted the cards together. She glanced once at her father, to gauge his reaction, her tongue darting out to moisten her lips. She put her hands into her lap.
“Congratulations.” Mrs. Washburn led the applause, and she presented Charlotte and Marcus with their prizes.
“Thank you.” Marcus took his box, but he waited for Charlotte to open hers first.
“Oh my.” Her mouth opened as she removed the striped paper and ribbon and peeked into the box. She held up a glittering gold chain with an oval pendant attached. Gold with a single emerald in the center.
“It’s a locket, my dear. You can tuck a keepsake inside or a miniature.” Mrs. Washburn held out her hand. “I’ll help you put it on if you like?”
Charlotte appeared stunned, handing over the necklace and sitting like a statue while her hostess clasped the gold chain around her slim throat. The locket rested against the fabric of her high-collared dress, and she touched the golden pendant as if it might evaporate.
Which was when Marcus noticed that unlike every other woman in the room, she hadn’t been wearing any jewelry. She wasn’t a debutante, so jewelry was allowed, but she’d worn no pearls, no diamonds, not so much as a cameo. Long sleeves, a high collar to her dress, she was as covered as if she had come straight from a cloister.
Mrs. Washburn was looking at him expectantly, and he pulled his mind back to the matter at hand. He made quick work of the paper and string, opening a jeweler’s box to reveal a gold snuff ring. It matched the locket perfectly, the same gold design, the same green jewel in the center.
“I do hope it fits. If not, I can take it back to the jeweler’s to get it sized for you.” Mrs. Washburn clasped her hands together at her waist.
He slipped the ring onto his right hand, third finger, where it fit perfectly. “I thank you, madam. It’s an excellent gift.”
“Yes, thank you, Mrs. Washburn.” Charlotte’s fingers hadn’t left the necklace. “I should say that it’s too much, but I won’t. I love it.”
Mrs. Washburn beamed. Her party had been a success, and Marcus was sure news to that effect would circulate on the morrow as the ladies present made their morning calls on one another.
The evening broke up soon after that, and Marcus, after thanking their hosts, found himself on the Washburn steps awaiting his carriage. Charlotte followed her parents outside and down the stairs.
Marcus sprang after her to take her elbow and help her into the earl’s carriage. “Thank you for a nice evening, Lady Charlotte. If I am ever in need of another partner for cards, I know where I shall go.”
She paused before stepping up into the coach, turning her face toward him. He didn’t know which gleamed brighter, those green eyes or the golden chain peeking from beneath her cloak.
“It was very nice to meet you, Your Grace. I should think your mother would be an excellent partner for cards. They nearly had us.” That saucy flicker entered her eyes again. “They would have, if not for me. Perhaps I should ask your mother to partner me next time. We would make floor mops of you, I’m sure.”
With that jibe, she entered the carriage, and he closed the door, feeling like laughing for the first time in months.
As they rolled toward their townhouse in their own carriage, his mother sniffed. “Get that notion out of your head, Marcus.”
“What notion?”
“If you have any designs on the Tiptree chit, you can put them away. She’s totally unsuitable. I’ve never seen a frumpier, more outspoken bluestocking in my life.”
Marcus blinked. “I don’t have designs on anyone, if you’ll remember. I merely partnered her at cards.”
“I know you better than you think I do. You couldn’t take your eyes off her.”
“She was sitting across the table from me. What was I supposed to do?” He spread his hands. “Anyway, not that I’m looking for a bride, but what makes her unsuitable? She’s the daughter of an earl, is she not?”
“You know perfectly well she is. It’s not her breeding that is the problem. It’s her behavior. And take a look at her. She’s as plain as a pikelet.”
Marcus went still. “I refuse to believe she has behaved scandalously. She didn’t flirt with me once all evening.” Though if his mother knew Lady Charlotte had ventured into St. Giles at night, she might have fuel for her opinions.
“I’ve heard nothing about her character that would be shameful. In fact, Tiptree keeps a tight rein on his wife and his daughter. You see the way he dresses them. And Charlotte acted as if she’d never seen gold jewelry until tonight. No, it’s her mouth that gets her into trouble. She behaved tolerably well this evening, but I’ve attended events in the past where she cannot seem to hold her tongue and ranges forth on subjects both unladylike and well above her. She is full of her own intelligence, and by her own admission, she reads books … she even reads newspapers.”